


Shadow of the Girl (I used to be)

by Natasi (SwordDraconis113)



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F, PTSD, Post 4x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwordDraconis113/pseuds/Natasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Seven years,” Lauren tells her. “Five with the Ash, two with Hale.” She missing a year; Bo doesn’t tell her. She’s missing the one here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow of the Girl (I used to be)

When Bo finds Lauren, Lauren wants to fume. She wants to swell and growl, have her knuckles turn white and her heart beat a low _boom boom_ sound that threatens to burst. Most of all, Lauren wants Bo to see what’s happened to her, to see her and feel _hurt_ as though she was the one who’d signed her life away, not her self. 

But she doesn’t need to. Not this time. She’s done that before and all it does is make the apparition disappear and cause the jaded light to recede back to darkness. 

There are no chains around Lauren in this cell, but the marks have scarred around her wrists. Maybe one day they’ll fade white. Maybe. If she treats it well, if she allows her body to heal. But a part of her wants the scars, she wants to remember each crimson line and wrecked tissue as a reminder of her last lovers. 

“So,” Bo’s voice breaks the silence. She isn’t the warm succubus Lauren once spoke to. She’s as cold and hardened as Lauren feels. 

“So,” she agrees, pretending to be a doctor. There’s no white coat, no pockets in her clothes to bury her hands deep. Her scars are raw, exposed and Bo’s eyes run over each and every one. 

Cringing, she turns away, hiding beneath a curtain of red hair. 

“It suits you,” Bo tells her. “The hair.” 

“It doesn’t.” 

“No, it doesn’t, but the red does.” She sighs and steps forward in the doorway, stopping when Lauren flinches back. “You’re free, you know.” 

Lauren laughs. It’s low and broken, bitter on her tongue, but if she doesn’t laugh, she’ll cry. In this world, as a human, she’ll never be _free_. “Seven years,” Lauren tells her. “Five with the Ash, two with Hale.” She missing a year; Bo doesn’t tell her. She’s missing the one here. 

But Bo hears the explanation in Lauren’s words, and whatever curve her lips take, it isn’t amusement. “Come home with me.” 

“I am home.” 

“Lauren-” 

“I’m not Lauren.” 

“ _Lauren_ ,” she pressed again. “You are... _Lauren_. Not Karen, not Amber, but Lauren. _My_ Lauren.” 

“I’m hardly yours.” 

Bo breathes in, swallowing back the resentment and takes a slow, measured step forward in the dark cell. Lauren doesn’t flinch this time, but she doesn’t relax either. Her body is rigid against the wall, her legs poised ready to jump off the thin cot if needed. 

“You don’t have to be mine. It’s just...it’s…” 

“I know,” Lauren nods. She doesn’t raise her eyes, but there’s something of an apology in her tone. “Kenzi’s hiding, is she?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I hope she hides better than I did.” 

“She will.” Bo cringes then, apologetically, but Lauren’s head turns away. It’s the truth isn’t it? Kenzi always got everything she damn well wanted after meeting the fae, where she had lost everything. Balance and all that, she had long since surmised, but it doesn’t make it any sweeter knowing. 

“Come home,” Bo asks her again. “We’ll fix this.” 

“I don’t want _you_ to fix this.” 

A poor attempt to knife in the words, but all Bo did was sit beside her. She reaches out deliberately, and settles her hand over Lauren’s. 

Lauren wants to flinch away, to curl her hand out of Bo’s and into her lap, but instead she feels herself tilt sideways, burying her head against Bo’s neck as she curled into a warm embrace. The scent overpowers her. Bo’s musk, the smell of leather and industrial smoke covered with a thin, sweet perfume. “You’re real?” she asks softly. “You’re really here?” 

“I am.” Bo kisses her forehead before squeezing her hand. Lauren shakes beneath her, “Come home, Lauren. I’ll fix this.” 

“I don’t want you to fix it.” 

“I’ll fix it anyway.” 

It’s small and almost not there, but Lauren sighs out a smile. 


End file.
